by Bijou Hunter
“I thought it was Astro.”
“Was it?” she asks, furrowing her brow. “I just remember it was dumb.”
“You wanted me to use that dumb name!” Audrey cries, really laying on the emotion.
“No,” MJ deadpans.
The sisters stare at each other for so long that Cap pretends to fall asleep and begins snoring.
MJ smiles widely. “I have to admit Audrey is so much nicer since hooking up with Cap. Who knew a giant would provide my little sister with a personality transplant?”
“You’re a pill,” Audrey growls, sounding like her father.
“Speaking of pills, Farmer Ted, name your son after Quaid and we’ll call him Quaalude.”
“I’m not naming my baby after a drug.”
“Doobie wouldn’t be half bad,” Cap offers to his wife’s horror.
“Too bad it’s not a girl. Then you could name her Mary Jane,” Lily says from the kitchen.
“Uh, I have a girl’s name.”
“So Doobie for a boy then?” MJ asks.
“No.”
“Your lips say no, but your eyes say you’re open to the idea.”
“Never.”
“Weird names are off the table,” Cap says.
MJ rolls her eyes. “So your family is cool with naming their children after ghosts, bugs, snacks, and a form of body disposal, but drug names are a bridge too far, huh? What a bunch of horseshit.”
“Mom!” Audrey yells. “Miranda is cussing again!”
Farah refuses to get involved in their drama. She’s too busy stabbing the cutting board while speaking with Tawny. Lily leaves the kitchen and joins us on the couch.
“I am sure whatever moniker you choose for your bouncing baby boy will be just peachy.”
MJ and Audrey sigh in unison before my girl suddenly perks up.
“Hey, Lil, who offered you a Chubby Joe when they knew you were a vegetarian?”
Lily shrugs and shakes her head and looks around as if she doesn’t even understand the question before finally mumbling, “Just some girl.”
“What girl?”
“Someone from work. She’s new. You don’t know her.”
When MJ doesn’t let up, I suspect tormenting her sisters is just a distraction from the conversation happening outside.
“Maybe I should get to know this girl if she’s going to be a bad influence on my big sister. What’s her name?”
Lily narrows her dark eyes. “I don’t want you harassing her. She sensed I wasn’t happy as a vegetarian and offered me a burger. I’m the one who ate it.”
“Hmm…” Audrey says, jumping into the fun. “So this girl who you just met totally saw into your soul and could tell you were unhappy about a life choice. Then this girl you barely know decided to help you step back into carnivore living?”
“Basically.”
“What’s her name again?” MJ asks, leaning closer. “Does it sound oddly male?”
Unwilling to play her sisters’ game, Lily changes the subject. “So will Quaid get your name tattooed on his wrist like Cap did for Audrey?”
MJ shrugs without even looking at me. “He does what he wants, and I am too happy to second-guess his choices.”
“Is that a yes?” Audrey asks.
The three of them look at me while Cap flashes his tattooed wrist. “Johansson family tradition,” he says in a shoddy Irish accent.
“Of course, I’ll have her name tattooed on my body, but why the wrist and not somewhere more private?”
“Gross,” Audrey says, sending MJ into giggles.
“He’s big enough to spell out my entire name too,” MJ says and gives her sister an exaggerated wink.
“Stop sending bitchy vibes at me.”
“I’m terribly sorry. Is your baby adversely affected by my need to laugh to distract from getting shot?”
“Mom!” Audrey yells, fighting laughter. “MJ is using her bullet wound to win an argument!”
MJ turns to me suddenly, flinches in pain when her arm slams against the couch, and then rebounds with a smile. “You can have it tattooed in your butt cheeks so only me and your doctor will ever see it.”
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” I say, shaking my head. “That sounds fantastic.”
“I’ll have your name tattooed on my inner vagina.”
“Mom!” Audrey yells and gets up in a hurry. “MJ is trying to give me nightmares!”
“Would you stop arguing?” Farah yells back.
“Mom, please, calm down,” Audrey says now in the kitchen. “No need to get so loud when I’m right here.”
MJ laughs at her mother’s put-upon expression, but then her gaze finds me and remains there.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, clearly worried about her father.
“He doesn’t want you riding my dick, but that’s to be expected.”
Holding my hand, MJ smiles despite her worries. Her gaze repeatedly seeks out Cooper. When she finds him fuming outside, I see the fear in her eyes. Despite my worrying about how she’ll feel about the club’s plan, MJ’s only concern is her father’s approval. Does he still love her enough to let her run roughshod over him?
Not that I blame Cooper for falling for her tricks and bending to his daughter’s will. MJ’s worth any con, and I plan to be her fool for a long damn time.
THE CHAPTER WHERE THE STORY ENDS
THE ODDBALL
Pop explains how he believes Gary Lee is the shooter and he’s glad I told him what I remembered. He then assures me how the club will kill Jim-Bean’s son. Just not yet because Quaid said so. I suspect a few steps are missing in his explanation. Quaid’s mild eye roll indicates Pop is definitely giving me the Cliff Notes version of the situation.
“I promise he won’t hurt you,” Pop says.
“So he won’t die?”
“No, he will.”
“But not yet,” I ask while Mom holds my hand now that she’s stopped stabbing the cutting board.
“No, Quaid thought we should wait.”
I survey the room full of cross-armed men standing with their respective women. Colton stands away from them, seething in defiance. The other men nod whenever Pop does. When he shakes his head, they follow suit. I’m not a fan of Pop’s weird puppet show.
“If Quaid believes in the plan then I’m on board,” I announce, hoping to irritate Pop who immediately narrows his gaze.
“Just like that?” Pop mutters.
“I trust my man’s instincts. After all, he knew I was special without us speaking a word. My lover possesses a gift.”
Quaid glances at Cap and nods. “True story.”
The giant man gives him a knowing wink. They’re outsiders in a foreign land where the king remains childishly pissed about his adult daughters no longer needing their diapers changed.
“Thanks, Pop, for listening to my wise sex partner,” I whisper and cup his clenched jaw.
“Nasty,” Colton grumbles and walks to the kitchen. “My sisters are twisted.”
Giggling, I keep my gaze on Pop who sighs. “Thanks for believing me.”
“That never should have been in doubt.”
“I’m a troubled, easily confused woman, but I see the error of my ways now.”
Pop gives me that look again. Am I dumber than a box of rocks and doing my very best to keep up with the rest of the world? Or am I a tricky bitch playing the longest con in Kentucky history? My poor father will never know the answer, but I’ll probably let him in on the truth when we’re chilling in Heaven one day. Probably.
Despite pretending to be cool with the Quaid-devised plan, I still fear walking from the house to my RV. Long after dinner and well past when I’m ready to crash, I fight to avoid the dark evening. Finally, my wise sex partner wraps an arm around my waist and gently forces my scared ass back to our place.
Once we’re inside the RV and Quaid pours us a glass of lemonade to share, I ask, “What do you think Gary Lee is doing right now?”
“Living on
borrowed time,” he says in a terrifying voice I find incredibly sexy.
We cuddle on the couch for a minute before I slide to the floor. Removing his boots, I shove them in my shoe cabinet.
“It’s small in here, but I think we can make the size work until we have the yurt,” I say, rejoining him on the couch.
“Still can’t picture what that will be like.”
“It’s a big fucking tent,” I say and take a sip. “I’ve been thinking about how I assumed wrong about the RV fitting me for a long time. So now I’m worried about spending a lot of money on a yurt and not liking it. Or more likely, that you won’t like it. So maybe we could start with a small yurt without a lot of pizzazz just in case. Also, to save money on plumbing, do you think we could just park the RV next to the yurt and use the kitchen and bathroom in here for a while?”
“If you’re worried about money, I have savings from my contractor work.”
“Keep it in savings,” I whisper while rubbing my bandage. “We might hate living in such an open, round home. It might be too cold in the winter even with a stovepipe in the middle. Or we might have a kid and find there’s not enough room. I hate wasting money. My pop-pop used to say how it’s better to have money stashed away than pissed away.”
Quaid takes the cup from my hand, rests it on the counter, and turns to face me. “I haven’t lived in a house in a long time. I’ve stayed in short-term apartments, hotels, rental rooms, and tents. I don’t think I’d like anything too cookie-cutter, but I could be wrong.”
“We could both be off base. Then one day, we’ll move into a lame-o house with boring neighbors who talk about kid soccer games and, I don’t know, taxes and lawns.”
“No,” Quaid says, doing a sexy impression of me.
“Please, please, no.”
“We’re not those people.”
“I didn’t think I was, but I feel lame-o now that I’m afraid to leave the RV.”
Quaid wraps an arm around my shoulders while reaching over to open the shades so we can enjoy the nearly full moon. Despite how much I hate feeling exposed, I know he’s showing me that Gary Lee isn’t a threat. The swamp whore motherfucker isn’t out in the woods, waiting to take a shot. We’re safe in our home and deserve to enjoy the mid-summer night.
Mimicking his confidence, I leave the shades open for nearly an hour until I can’t stand it anymore. I hurry to shut them before standing in the middle of the RV.
“What are you feeling?” Quaid asks, giving me his casual eyebrow lift.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Just focus on it and find the words.”
“It’s not that easy,” I say, rubbing my arm.
“No, probably not, but it’s not impossible either.”
Shaking my head, I want to yell at him for being so calm when I’m so frantic. Shouldn’t he freak out too?
“Is it about Gary Lee?” Quaid asks.
“Fucking duh!” I scream.
Quaid doesn’t even flinch at my angry response. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“He was right here today,” I growl between clenched teeth. “He came here to my home and acted like he was worried about the family.”
“He wanted to create an alibi for when the bar was attacked.”
“He was near my mom.”
“Yes, he was.”
“I saw him,” I mutter, wishing I had more space to pace. “I knew on some level he shouldn’t be here. I thought it was just that I never liked him.”
“But inside you knew it was more.”
“Yeah, and he was here!” I holler. “He knew what he did, and he had the balls to come to my home and talk to my mom. The woman whose heart he wanted to break by killing her child. That fucker! My mom had a horrible childhood. She worked so hard to feel safe! But he didn’t care about causing her more pain!”
Quaid never moves during my tirade. I wish I could steal some of his calm for myself. “Gary Lee’s a sociopath unable to consider anyone’s needs beyond his own. That’s why he fucked over his father to save himself.”
“He killed those kittens,” I whimper, overheated even in the chilly RV. “He let them die slowly in that box for no reason except to mess with me. He deserves to die.”
“He will die.”
Tears filling my eyes, I shouldn’t fall apart, but I feel powerless against the building panic. Gary Lee is a nobody who still managed to destroy me.
“Or maybe he won’t die. He’ll probably get to live a happy fucking life after what he did,” I say, collapsing on my bed. “He’ll do whatever he wants because his dad is important, and people like that always get away with shit.”
Quaid moves soundlessly across the RV, startling me when he appears over me on the bed.
“I will never let him live a happy life,” he murmurs in a low, frightening tone. “I want him to feel safe, though. I want him to believe he got away with his evil shit, and I want him to let down his guard. That way, when I come for him, he’ll know the kind of shock you suffered when he came for you. I want him to understand what it’s like to wake up without fear and then suddenly realize his life is over. Your life didn’t end, but his will.”
“How will he die?”
“I might slit his throat,” he whispers, staring into my eyes. “I’ll cut him just deep enough so he’ll bleed out in a few minutes. He’ll look in my eyes and know why he’s dying. He’ll also know how his family will never find his body. There’ll be no burial, no headstone to visit on his birthdays, no finality. He’ll just disappear, and people will eventually come up with their own reasons for his absence. In the end, few will even remember he existed.”
“You would do that,” I say, gripping his shirt and holding onto my anchor.
“Nothing will make me happier than killing him. Your father and brother might fight me for the chance to end Gary Lee, but I want it to be me.”
His steely gaze dissolves my panic. Yet without my fear, I’m left bare, vacant, lifeless. The emptiness relaxes me, though. I trust Quaid in a way I could never trust another person. He knows me. Somehow, he sees what others can’t. He feels when I’m afraid before I even know I’m scared. This man is everything to me. If he promises to end Gary Lee and keep me safe, I believe him completely.
Quaid doesn’t ask me to talk more tonight. He never hints at sex. Instead, we rest in bed and watch a painfully slow baseball game. I enjoy the quiet, relieved for a break from the noise keeping me on edge.
By the fifth inning, Quaid begins mocking how the away team’s pitcher keeps spitting. We keep score of the athlete’s gross habit until I’m laughing every time a loogie hits the ground.
“It’s the small things,” Quaid says while cuddled next to me.
Grinning at his relaxed expression, I can’t believe I found a man so well suited for my simple life. I’m still counting my blessings when I fall asleep during the eighth inning after the gross pitcher is replaced by someone less phlegmy.
I wake up twice during the night. First to pee and then to take a pain pill after I somehow end up using my injured arm as a pillow.
Once thoroughly doped up, I sleep late into the morning. My eyes only open when Quaid gives me a pill to take. I can’t even do that much when he says my brother wants to show him something. I think I warn him to never stand behind Colton, but I’m not sure if those words exist only in my head.
Hunger forces me awake around noon. I grab crackers from the shelf and devour four before finally noticing Quaid watching me.
“What did Colton want?” I ask with my mouth full.
“He showed me something. After you eat, we’ll go for a walk, and I’ll show you.”
No way do I want to take a walk, but I don’t admit this fact. Instead, I finish my crackers, drink a half gallon of orange juice, and pee for what feels like twenty minutes.
“That’s better,” I say, rubbing my stomach.
Quaid shoves his feet into his boots and plops a hat on my head. “Put on y
our shoes, and we’ll go for a walk.”
“No.”
“It’s time for you to take back what that piece of shit stole,” he says, his blue eyes flashing steely determination.
“I don’t want to.”
“Yes, you do. Now put on your shoes and choose to leave the RV. I don’t want to carry you. Think of my old-man back, MJ.”
Refusing to smile, I suspect my eyes still give away how his words tickle me. He holds out his hand, and there’s no way I can refuse him. He spent his entire life alone even when he was with other people. Now he’s committed to sharing his life with me.
“What if I walk to the house?”
“You’ve done that. I want you to join me in the woods. I need to show you something Colton did.”
“Is it piss my name in the dirt because I’ve seen that before?” I mumble while sliding on my hiking sandals.
“No, it’s something new.”
As Quaid stands in the doorway, I admire how his hair shines in the sunlight. The color is almost red under the heat of the summer day, and I wonder if we’ll have ginger children. My hand instinctively goes to my dyed hair. If our kids get stuck with my dark-as-night eyebrows, I hope they’re blessed with auburn hair. Blonde hair with Groucho Marx brows isn’t a great look.
“MJ, the one thing keeping you inside this RV is you,” he says, and I think I spot disappointment in his pale eyes.
“It’s so hot out.”
“The heat makes you think of summers with your family.”
Smiling at how he uses my words against me, I nod. “We probably won’t go on a road trip this year. Not with Audrey pregnant and me hurt and weak and afraid and stuff.”
“My family never traveled.”
Fucking Quaid knows just what to say to push my buttons. Despite how obviously he’s playing me, my immediate reaction is thinking we MUST go on a road trip this summer so Quaid can have what his childhood never provided.
“Take my hand,” he whispers, and I stare at his strong hand waiting for me.
Reaching for him, I take a step out of the RV and then another until I stand on the gravel-covered driveway. This part isn’t so hard, but then he shuts the door, and I’m in the open.
